


you became as clear as cellophane

by anlashokk (voidteas)



Category: Choices: High School Story: Class Act (Visual Novel), High School Story (Visual Novel)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Mutual Pining, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidteas/pseuds/anlashokk
Summary: stolen snapshots of two teenagers living in the moment.
Relationships: Ajay Bhandari/Main Character (High School Story: Class Act)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. helpless

“Do you want some help?”

The question startles her, but not as much as it does him; he's surprised by the very words that have spilled from his mouth. For a moment, she looks up at him strangely — brown eyes filled with wonder or amusement or _both_ —but then she lights up, her lips curling upwards into a smile, and his heart rate _skyrockets_ along with it.

“Don't you want to win?” Her question is teasing, but he has to admit she's right about that: he wants to _win_. He's not so sure if he likes the fact that his reputation — as both Berry's resident pool shark _and_ as her upperclassman — could very well be at stake here.

And yet, at the same time, when he'd seen her lower her cue stick with uncertainty _(biting her lips and furrowing her brows and retreating like a turtle into the shell of her newly-bought sweater)_ there's... something that had stirred within him. Pity? Doubt? He doesn't know.

 _(He doesn't_ want _to know.)_

“Yeah,” he replies eventually, schooling his tone and his expression into one of careful nonchalance; yet a smile tugs at the corners of his lips despite himself. “But the director in me can't help _but_ help.”

He trails off, fingers curling tightly around his own cue stick. _Terrible_ , he thinks, as soon as an idea of how to help makes itself known in his head — but his body moves of its own volition, and his hand sets the implement down. _That's a terrible idea. She'll laugh at you, dumbass._

He swallows his fears. It's just a friendly offer, right?

“Mind if I put my hand on yours?”

And there it is. She starts out giggling, and then she _laughs_ — one hand on her cue stick and the other holding onto the pool table — and there's white-hot embarrassment that causes his cheeks to flush, flooding his veins and turning his blood to ice—

But after a short while, her laughter dies down and her expression shifts, righting herself as she places the hand that had been on the table onto his shoulder. It's warm and electric and _tingly_ and he doesn't know how to react, freezing in place for one reason or another. “Oh, Ajay.” Her lips don a cat-like smile, eyes twinkling in a way that he swears spells nothing but _trouble_ for him. “I don't mind at all.”

(He doesn't mind at all either way after their game ends, when he grazes his lips across her cheek and she's taken aback; she slips back into the crook of her fuchsia sweater, looking away in a manner indicating she didn't expect him to follow through. There's no visible blush painting her cheeks, but when she stammers out a set of words that sound distinctly like _“You know where to find me!”_ , Ajay is absolutely sure it's a victory for him. A small victory — one that won't go down in history in the same way hers did, but a victory nonetheless.)


	2. yield, i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha, remember when i wrote a rewriting of the locked in chapter? good times... here's my take on it again after like two years.

“You know, I wonder…”

Oh, _no_.

The vent looms above them, and it eerily feels like they're in a scene of a terrible horror movie and she _really_ hates it. As soon as his gaze turned upward, she just knew he'd suggest that they go through — that they should try to crawl through the vent like they're on some form of heist mission — and there are alarm bells ringing in her head already at the amount of things that could go terribly, _terribly_ wrong.

“Are you thinking we should crawl up there?” she asks, and she curses inwardly at the tremor in her voice and at how fast she'd spoken. She digs her fingernails into her palm — _girl, get ahold of yourself!_ — and continues. “Like... in the movies?”

He barely even looks at her while she speaks ( _rude!_ ), but his eyes seem to light up after a moment of silence and he snaps his fingers. “Not _we_ ,” he begins, and there's a smile forming at the corners of his lips in the same way that she distinctly feels as though she's sinking into a puddle of dread. “ _You_. You're smaller, so I'll grab a ladder from backstage and you can climb up. See if you can get in a classroom or a hallway or something.”

_What?_

She snorts a little, before bursting into ripples of laughter ( _like that time when he asked her if he could put his hand on hers, because it was just so strange for someone like him to be interested in someone like her so of course the offer was purely platonic and friendly but also heck, why was she so elated at his proposal — argh, it wasn't a proposal, it was an offer, saying it's a proposal makes it sound weird!_ ) and holding onto one of the chairs for support. He's probably glaring at her right now, but she doesn't want to look at him — she has no other way to mask her absolute terror at the idea of crawling through the vent.

It makes her want to throw up. Just a little.

Her laughter dies down and she waves a hand ( _oh, no, he really is mad, crap!_ ) before straightening herself up. “Sorry! It's just— are you _sure_ this is safe?” She bites down on her lower lip and crosses her fingers behind her back, hoping that _maybe_ he's just joking about it, right?

“It's the best idea I have,” he says curtly, and there's an inkling of guilt that seeps into her conscience when he folds his arms with a look of annoyance rippling like a wave across his face. “Take it or leave it.”

She is tempted, so very tempted, to say no. But then Rory's face flashes in her mind — _“See you tonight, Juris!”_ — with her stupid smile and stupid good looks and the possibility that she would maybe ask her out later tonight for homecoming, and Juris melts all over again.

She exhales.

“Okay... I guess it's our last resort...”


End file.
